This Girl's Life
by Kristen Elizabeth
Summary: A career altering moment in Sara's life pushes Grissom towards a life altering one in his.


Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me. 

Author's Notes: I wrote this today in pure protest of last night's episode, "Daddy's Little Girl," and Sara's now infamous line. I'm a believer. And I choose to believe that she hasn't given up yet.

* * *

This Girl's Life 

by Kristen Elizabeth

* * *

_You can run from me _

_And you can hide from me _

_But I am right beside you _

_In this life_

_- Chantal Kreviazuk_

* * *

"Gil. Do you have a minute?" 

Only Catherine's voice in the back of his head telling him to be more politic kept Grissom from delivering a sharp retort to Ecklie's question, especially when his long-time adversary entered his office without waiting for an answer.

"Of course," Grissom said, tossing down his pen as Ecklie took a seat. "What's on your mind, Conrad?"

"I received a letter from the _American Journal of Forensics_ today informing me that a paper written by one of our CSI's has been chosen for publication in the upcoming issue." His smile was forced. "Since you supervise this particular CSI, I thought you should be the one to tell her the good news."

Leaning back in his chair, Grissom frowned. As a female, "this particular CSI" could only be one of two people under his supervision, and to his knowledge neither one of them had authored a paper recently. "Who?"

"Sidle," Ecklie replied, curtly. "The article's on that snuff film case she and Catherine had a few years ago. Using the DNA of the AIDS virus to catch a killer is compelling stuff, apparently." He frowned. "I suppose we'll have to give her some sort of congratulations from the lab. Maybe a plant?"

"Not a plant," Grissom said, fervently. "Anything but a plant."

"Well, whatever." Ecklie stood to go. "You'll let her know?"

"I will."

At the door, he looked back at Grissom. "I know what you're thinking, Gil. Just so you know, I still consider her the weakest link in your team. But having a prestigious publication to her name raises the status of our lab by association. That's not something I take for granted. It's almost too bad we probably won't have her around for long."

The older man swallowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Once the _Journal _comes out, she'll get job offers from every corner of the country. And despite her somewhat colorful record here, she'll probably even be offered a few supervisor spots in less discerning labs."

"Of course," Grissom murmured.

"And she'd be wise to take one of them. I can guarantee that as long as she stays here, she's not moving up the ranks." Ecklie sighed, as if he took no personal pleasure in this. "But she dug that grave for herself." He paused. "Have a good shift, Gil."

If he had any clue that he'd just delivered a huge blow to his professional rival, he hid it very well.

* * *

Sara had just finished stowing her purse and jacket when Greg entered the locker room. 

"Hey Sar," he greeted her with a wide smile. "Grissom wants to see you."

She hesitated before shutting her locker's door. "Did he say about what?"

"Nope." She received a sympathetic look. "He didn't sound mad about anything, if that helps."

"With Grissom, it's not emotion you have to worry about. The lack thereof is far worse." She chuckled weakly. "If I'm not back in ten minutes, send a rescue party."

Greg saluted. "I'll lead it myself."

For the two minutes it took her to reach Grissom's office, Sara contemplated the reason for her summons. She'd just wrapped a case and was in the middle of two more; perhaps a problem had arisen with one of them. She certainly hadn't done anything of late that warranted disciplinary action. At least that she was aware of.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he wanted to throw her onto his desk and have his way with her. But what were the odds of that?

Sara stopped to take a calming breath before knocking on his open door. When he looked up, she put on her brightest smile. "You wanted to see me?"

"Sara. Come in." Grissom set aside his paperwork as she entered. "How are you?"

She froze halfway through lowering herself into a chair. "Um…I'm fine. How are you?"

"Fine," was all he could seem to come up with.

Several painfully long seconds passed. Finally, Sara crossed one long leg over the other. "Okay. Whatever happened, just tell me. I can handle it."

"What makes you think something bad happened?"

"Because…" The truth, that he had asked about her well-being and she hadn't been involved in a life-threatening situation, seemed a bit too pointed. "Didn't it?"

Grissom shook his head. "Quite the opposite actually."

"You've lost me."

The desk had always served as a wall between them, one that Grissom seemed quite happy to stay behind. So she was even more surprised, and confused, when he stood up and came around to her side. "Why haven't you ever mentioned that you submitted a paper to the _Journal_?"

She blinked several times. "I…Catherine knew. I asked her if she wanted to co-author it with…" She stopped. "How did you know about it?"

"They've chosen to publish it in the upcoming issue." He paused. "Congratulations, Sara."

"Wow," Sara said when her mind finally caught up. "You'd think they'd notify me first, wouldn't you? Although I've had this feeling Mrs. Dombroski down the hall has been stealing mail; I just lack the evidence to prove it."

He looked puzzled when she glanced up. "You should be very proud of yourself. Getting published in the _Journal_ is a career-defining event."

"It wasn't intended to be a career move," Sara said, quietly. "I'm a big believer in passing on experience. The case was interesting, I have plenty of free time, so I wrote the thing and sent it off. End of story." She stood up. "Thanks for letting me know. See you at assignments."

"Sara." He stopped her just as she was about to leave. She looked back at him, expectantly. "Are you happy?"

"I'm getting there." She waited another moment for him to say something, anything. Eventually, she gave in and left him to his solitude.

* * *

"I could just kick myself." Catherine sighed dramatically. "I could have had my name on that paper. 

"I did offer," Sara reminded her. "It was our case, after all."

The other woman waved her hand in acknowledgement. "I wouldn't have been a good writing buddy. I had far too much on my plate at the time."

"I guess I'm lucky that I have no life, then."

Catherine started to nod in agreement, but stopped herself in time. "Well, just think about all the offers you'll get. Every time I present a case at a seminar, I get flooded with job proposals. Gil's damn lucky that I don't want to uproot Lindsey or he would have lost me years ago."

"Yeah. I'm sure he wouldn't have wanted that." Sara reached across the layout table for the photographs of their latest case, a convenience store robbery gone south. "Let's go over what we know so far."

They were deep into the compiled evidence when Greg and Nick snuck into the room. "So," Nick said as loudly as possible, startling Sara into attention. "I hear congratulations are in order."

A flush that could have been embarrassment or annoyance or both colored her cheeks. "News spreads like wildfire, I see."

"We're so proud of our little Sara," Greg sniffed, wiping away an imaginary tear. "All grown up and getting published in the _AJF_."

"Just keep digging that hole, Greg. See who gets the next decomp in an enclosed space," Sara said sweetly.

Catherine smothered a chuckle. "Someone's feeling a little self-conscious, boys. Let's not tease her."

"It's just not that big of a deal," Sara reiterated.

"Sure. And the fact that you'll be a hot commodity in the field means nothing." Nick gave her a knowing look. "I remember how you wanted that Lead CSI spot. Hell, I figured you'd be the one to get it." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're destined for bigger and better things, Miss Sidle."

"We'll see." Sara tempered her bitterness with a tired smile. "I appreciate the congrats, guys. But we have a lot of work here."

"We get the hint," Greg said, lifting his nose into the air. "Just don't go getting a big head, missy. We knew you back when."

When they were gone, Catherine said, "There's something very Batman and Robin about them these days."

Sara nodded. "Fortunately minus the tights."

"See, I was going to say 'unfortunately'."

"TMI, Cath. TMI."

* * *

Two weeks later, Grissom got the first phone call. 

He was just packing up to head home for some breakfast and much needed sleep, when it came. In retrospect, he should have just let it go to voice mail.

"Grissom," he answered.

"Dr. Grissom, hello. I'm Dr. Sam Houghton from the Chicago Crime Lab. We met a couple years back at that conference in New York, remember?"

He didn't. "Of course. What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"You can tell me all about one of your CSI's, Sara Sidle."

And all of the sudden, Grissom remembered the man. Big. Arrogant. Asshole.

"Caught her article in the _Journal._ Using the DNA of the virus to link a victim to her killer…ingenious. Just the kind of smarts we look for when hiring supervisors. As a matter of fact, we're in the market for a graveyard shift supervisor right now."

Grissom's throat was bone dry. "Imagine that."

"You don't think you can hold onto that number two ranking forever, do you?" the man guffawed. "We've got a great lab here. Your girl sounds like she'd fit right in."

"Well, I can't speak for Sara, Dr. Houghton. But I can say that she'd probably take some offense at being called anyone's girl."

"My mistake. Look, I'm just giving you a heads-up. Call it professional courtesy. But I intend to make Miss Sidle an offer just as soon as I can get her on the phone. I know what they pay you out in Vegas, and I just want you to be aware that we can give her about five clams more a year."

Five clams. Good to know the gangster spirit was still alive in the Windy City. Grissom ran a hand down his beard. "I'm sure Sara will make the best choice for herself. Like you said, she's smart."

"Good. That means she'll take my offer. Always a pleasure talking to you, Doctor."

Grissom's eye twitched. "Doctor."

The next day it was Detective Brandon from Seattle. The day after that, Horatio Caine from Miami. By the time Grissom received a fourth call from Denver, only five days after the _Journal_ came out, he had reached his breaking point.

After hanging up with Colorado, he glanced at the clock. Their shift started in two hours. If he hurried, he could just catch Sara before she left to come in to work. This wasn't the sort of conversation he wanted to have in the lab.

* * *

"Tony, Tony, please come down. Something's lost and can't be found." 

Sara frowned even as she spoke the words. Calling upon St. Anthony, Patron of Lost Things and Missing Persons was something her grandmother had taught her when she was very little. She hadn't even thought of it in years. But after searching for her keys for twenty minutes, Sara was willing to try just about anything.

She had her arm halfway buried in the couch cushions when she heard the knock on her door. She was a little too vigorous in extracting herself; the bare edge of a spring ripped a gash in the delicate flesh of her forearm.

"Shit!" she cried out.

"Sara?" The voice was muffled by the door, but not so much that she didn't recognize it.

Holding the wound to stop the blood, Sara answered the door. "Damn," she said when she saw him. "I was hoping you'd be a traveling band-aid salesman."

Seeing the awkward angle at which she held her arm, Grissom entered her apartment without an invitation. "What happened?"

"The couch attacked me."

"You're bleeding, honey," he noted. "We need to wash out the wound."

She bit her lip. "We?"

"Where's your bathroom?"

"Through there." He reached for her good arm, as if to guide her, but she pulled back. "I can handle it, Grissom."

He hesitated before slipping his hands into his pockets. "Let me know if I can be of any help."

Sara came back into the main room five minutes later, a fresh bandage covering her arm. She paused and took in the picture before her. Grissom sat on what was now her least favorite couch, a copy of the _AJF_ open on the coffee table in front of him.

"It looked a lot worse than it actually is. I took some aspirin. For the pain." He looked up at her. "You haven't spotted a set of keys, have you?"

"No." Grissom stood up, bringing the _Journal_ with him. "You know, this is the first chance I've gotten to read your paper."

That was a hurt that aspirin couldn't relieve. "Oh. I understand. The whole team's been slammed all week." She moved into the kitchen. "It's not like you don't know the case history, anyways. Do you want some coffee?"

He followed her, but stopped a good distance away. "You did a great job, Sara. It's clear, concise, even emotional. I can see why so many labs are trying to steal you away."

"So, they've been calling you, too." Sara filled the coffee pot with water. "I haven't felt this popular since…" She stopped for a second. "I haven't ever felt this popular."

"Have you made any decisions?"

She pushed the pot into place on the burner with more force than necessary. "Is this professional or personal curiosity?"

"If one of my CSI's is thinking about leaving, I'd like to know as soon as possible."

"Professional then. Well, Grissom, as my supervisor, you would be the first I'd tell." After measuring out the coffee grounds, she flipped the switch and turned to face him. "By the way, a clam is a thousand dollars, right?"

"Horatio Caine seems to think you'd be a big asset to his team." Grissom cocked his head to the side. "Florida would be a nice changeof scenery."

Sara's nose crinkled. "On the phone, he had this way of dragging out his words. Like he was speaking to someone who rides the special bus. I have a feeling that would end up driving me insane."

"What about Chicago and its clams?"

"Are you trying to talk me into leaving?"

His eyes widened. "Sara…I was only thinking of your career."

"Let me do that. Okay?" Sara folded her arms over her chest. "Look, I won't lie and say that some of the offers aren't extremely tempting. But those labs…they don't have what I've got here."

"What's that?" he asked, barely audible.

"Friends."

Grissom let out a breath. "You can always make new friends." She stared at him for what seemed like a year before stalking past him into the living room. "Sara, wait…"

She was already on her knees by the couch, peering underneath it. "Come on, Tony," she muttered. "Give me a break. Please."

"Your arm…honey, be careful..."

Her head shot up. "Do you call Catherine 'honey'?"

"I…well, no…"

"Maybe you call Greg 'son'? Or Nick 'pal'? Warrick, 'bro'?"

Grissom looked lost. "I don't."

Sara got to her feet. "Then tell me why I'm the only CSI on your team to warrant a term of endearment. And if you can't, then just stop doing it. Because I can't keep…"

"Keep what? Sara?"

She shook her head again. "No. If you don't have to say the words, neither do I." Sara paused. "I don't know why you came over tonight, Grissom, but if it was to persuade me to stay in Las Vegas, you're really falling short of your goal."

"Would you believe that I have no idea why I'm here?"

"Oh yeah. That I can believe." Sara sighed. "Warrick spoke pretty highly of Detective Caine. Maybe I could learn to like Miami."

"If that's what you want, Sara…" Grissom forced the words out. "…I'll write the best commendation letter for your file you've ever read."

"Save your paper, Grissom. I'm not going anywhere." She glanced around, frustrated. "Literally, if I don't ever find my keys."

"What do you mean you're not…" He seemed shocked, but she wasn't sure if it was from astonishment or anger, and it was too much to hope that it was out of relief. "Sara, don't you get it? If you stay here, you're never going to move any higher than where you are right now. Ecklie won't let you."

Sara picked up her bag from her desk and started rummaging through it on the off chance she'd tossed the keys into it and had just missed them all four times she'd looked there previously. "Grissom, if all I wanted from this job was career advancement, I would have left after I lost the Lead CSI position."

"But at the time…"

"Yes, at the time, I wanted it. Probably a little bit too much. But only because I didn't have…" She rephrased. "I'm in a better place now. I've stopped having beer with my breakfast. I get out more. I've discovered that I really love teaching, thanks to Greg. I have a newfound appreciation for my life, and for the first time, I like who I am right now. Sure, I could make more money somewhere else, but I'm not interested in being the new girl again. Not after I've only just started to feel like I'm part of something here."

Grissom met her gaze. "I underestimated you."

"About a lot of things."

"I'm sorry."

The corners of her lips turned up. "You can make it up to me by helping me find my keys."

"Is that all?" He took a step towards her. "Can't I do anything else for you?"

She weighed the implications of his question for a minute. "It's okay, Grissom. You've still got plenty of time to figure this out."

"I'm close. Too close to risk losing you to Horatio Caine," he told her. "I'm getting there, too, Sara."

"I'm glad," she whispered. "Because if you think the article was only good for job offers, you're wrong. I've had seven dinner invitations from CSI's passing through town in the next couple of months." He frowned, but Sara reassured him, "Don't worry. None of them have what I've got here, either."

Together, they found her keys ten minutes later. They'd fallen behind the loveseat.

* * *

Fin 


End file.
